There are days, as a parent, that your kids will test you. They will fight each other like they’re trying to draw blood. They will disobey and defy you in ways that will knock you off your feet. And they’ll act out in ways that makes me think at least, “I was NEVER like this as a child.” 

And maybe I wasn’t, but I’m sure in other ways, I was. I can remember plenty of times I got in trouble for talking back, being mean to my brother, or being disrespectful. I can remember plenty of times that I slammed my door as a teen, thinking that would show my parents how angry I was. And I know that my parents still loved me through it, but now I know how they must have felt on the other side of that door.

There is one thing I remember from the birth of my children; my firstborn especially. I remember the way that little hospital room became this warmly lit, peaceful, little bubble. The moments where it was just me, the baby, and her dad, felt the most safe and golden I have ever felt.

We looked at her until our eyes started crossing and the lids felt heavy. We held her and marveled at her perfection. We kissed her and let her wrap her whole hand around our one finger. We sang to her and prayed with her and spoke softly about how beautiful she was. How we promised to be the kind of parents who taught her about Jesus and cherished her soul every day of her life.

Having children is no joke. They will stretch you, they will challenge you, and they will push you to places mentally, physically, and emotionally that you have never been before.

I think the biggest lesson any parent learns is that everything changes. Nothing about life is designed to stay steady. If you’re a woman, your body changes in order to grow and bring that baby into the world. You gain weight; you find you have more skin, stretch marks, and changes to your body than you ever thought possible. Your body does new things like make milk and pushes the limits of exhaustion during those months and sometimes years that you wake up and settle your children back to sleep.

I remember singing “Because He Lives” in church as a little girl. From time to time, my childhood pastor would burst out into song in the middle of his sermons. Whether the tune fit into the message and was planned or because it welled up in his soul in the heat of the moment, there were often times where he’d start singing a hymn or a gospel tune from his childhood. 

When you’re a kid, you want your parents to pray for you for a lot of things. When you go to sleep, they say your bedtime prayers. When you sit down to eat, they pray for your food. When you fall down and get hurt, they pray over the scrapes and bumps.And for a kid, it feels like the prayers are better because it’s your mom or dad praying. The funny thing is, over the years that Sam and I have been in ministry, the premise is still the same for churchgoers to ask their pastors to pray on their behalf. Some people just feel that their pastor’s prayers are more effective or better heard by God.